A Mustang Miscellany
by ssadropout
Summary: Chapter 25 of this collection of stories about Roy and Riza takes place in the "future," and finds Riza, May, and Winry discussing their "first times" with their men. Well, mostly Roy's and Riza's first time. You just know that there has got to be a story there! Teen sexual situations, but not very graphic.
1. Vows and Promises

Series: Post FMA:B or the second anime

Characters: Brief mentions of many characters, some of whom have been promoted. Please also see the summary.

Summary: This is an excerpt from Roy Mustang's inauguration speech. (Please imagine the crowd's and individuals' reactions. XD)

Warnings: Future fic. Spoilers- Mentions of key moments throughout FMA:B

The truth? FMA isn't mine, and it doesn't want to be mine.

I come before you today, humbly and, I hope, wisely and strongly. As you know, I have made terrible mistakes and committed atrocious acts. I've murdered many and have no possibility of forgiveness or atonement. There is no defense for what I've done. I continued killing the people of Ishbal despite knowing that I was wrong. My rationale was that I was following orders and trying to be patriotic, but I was really being a coward. There were State Alchemists braver than I- men who jeopardized their careers and freedom to avoid what I was too weak to reject. The only saving grace of the man that I was in that corrupt desert war was that he decided to spend the rest of his life striving to make it so that no person in Amestris would be coerced into following immoral orders. I promised myself and a small group of soldiers that I would rise in the military ranks and become Fuhrer. And that once I became Fuhrer, I would rid Amestris of its military government and establish a democracy. I also mentioned something about miniskirts, but that promise will have to be shelved. Sorry!

Events didn't occur precisely as I'd planned, but they did turn out pretty well. Fuhrer Grumman, who has long been my mentor and will soon be my grandfather-in-law, has stabilized our country, negotiated peace and established trade with our neighbors, overseen the beginnings of rehabilitation of the Ishballan people and region, and instituted a council composed of representatives from all corners of our land.

These changes would not have been possible without our great heroes: Edward and Alphonse Elric, the late Von Hohenheim, General Olivier Armstrong, Colonel Alex Louis Armstrong, Stig and Izumi Curtis, not to mention the lovely and lethal Major Riza Hawkeye. My dear friend Brigadier General Maes Hughes uncovered the conspiracy against the Amestrian people and gave his life for us. Many others sacrificed life and limb.

Fuhrer Grumman is a tough act to follow, but as I tell him, I am younger, stronger, and better looking. I shall continue his initiatives, but I also plan to launch several of my own. My indispensable team and I, in conjunction with Fuhrer Grumman, have drawn up a plan that will allow all adult citizens of our nation to participate in democratic elections for council representatives within the next two years and a democratic election for Fuhrer one year after that.

I may be able to light Captain Havoc's cigarette from across the parade grounds- really, Jean, don't you think that it's time to quit- but, like you, I don't know what the future will bring. I vow that I will spend my time as Fuhrer working to build happy and healthy lives for all. Our progress may not always proceed smoothly, but I will do my best. I will see to it that you will be able to choose your Fuhrer, and if I do well enough, perhaps it will even be me.

**A/N-** I see Politician!Roy as being brutally honest and earnestly hopeful. I also see him honoring all of the people who fought to make Amestris free. And, as implied by the grandfather-in-law remark, I see Roy and Riza getting married. Royai forever! (I see Riza rolling her eyes when he mentions her. XD)

Reviews are loved! Thank you for reading, and take care.


	2. The Lies Have It

Title: "The Lies Have It"

Series: Manga, FMA:B

Characters: Grumman, O.M. Armstrong, and Mustang

Summary: Post chapter 108/ Episode 64- The new powerbrokers have a discussion about how much the people of Amestris should be told.

Warnings: Foul and obnoxious language from Olivier.

(****)

"The people seem to be eating up the story of King Bradley's heroic death, and it's really working for us. A stroke of genius!" Fuhrer Grumman posited. "Not to mention that it appeals to Mrs. Bradley. We need her on our side. You brought her over to us, Roy, but we don't want to lose her."

"I disagree with this tactic, Sir. The people should be told what really happened. Well, maybe not about Bradley and Selim being homunculi- that would not be believed by most; I can hardly believe it myself. But these lies are wrong."

"You're a naïve idiot, Mustang," interrupted Olivier Armstrong. "I was wrong about you being at all better than my crybaby brother. Oh, don't pout, Pretty Boy. That won't work on us."

"Olivier…" Grumman soothed. "Let's try to keep this conversation on point."

"Oh, you always defend your pet puppy, Grumman…"

"That's enough, Olivier. We're here to discuss policy."

"Yes, Sir," Armstrong insincerely conceded, her expression more sour than ever.

Mustang was determined to defend his position. "The people think we put down a military coup, but we were the coup. The truth _will_ come out. I'm not the only one who opposes this untruth."

Olivier had a solution for this. "Who else is a weak fool who can't count his balls, probably because he doesn't have any? I'll take care of him."

Ignoring her nth outburst, Roy continued, head shaking side to side, "There are any number of reasons that could cause a person to expose the… misinformation. That isn't the issue. The issue is that if our pretense is somehow revealed, it will hurt us and damage our ability to lead Amestris. The public's trust in us will be eroded."

"He may have a point, Olivier. Journalists, power-seekers, and our enemies- they could find out and use it against us. The people's gratitude and trust are our strongest supports. The honeymoon would be over before we knew it."

"They can't handle the truth," Olivier grumbled.

"Don't underestimate the people, Olivier." This was from Roy.

"That would be impossible to do!"

"Come on, Olivier. Look at your Briggs soldiers. They're smart, strong, independent…"

"That's because I trained them. I can't train every damn moron in Amestris."

Mustang's head dropped, his chin banging his chest. "Why did you even support us, Olivier?"

"If you don't know the answer to that, you are even dumber than I thought, Mustang."

"Back to the topic, Generals, unless you want to be here all day." Grumman was not in the mood for those two's squabbling.

"In my opinion, it's our weakest element. We're heroes; we are the beneficiaries of tremendous good will. What we did was even better than what the people think we did. We, well, especially Hohenheim and the tiny teenager, saved everyone's lives. We shouldn't boast or brag, but the tale we told will be interpreted as a scam." Roy had to refrain from banging his fist on the table.

The three sat there in heavy silence for several seconds. Grumman looked thoughtful. Mustang looked patient. Armstrong looked like she wanted to smash in a face. Grumman's voice ended the lull with a sigh.

"It can't be done, Roy. We have to build our relationship with the citizens before we are that candid. To admit that we have already misled them would undermine the process. We need to prove our worth first. We stick with the program." The Fuhrer paused. Armstrong smirked victoriously. Mustang rolled his eyes.

"Well, then. The lies have it! Cheer up, Roy. I have some good news for you. Earlier this morning, I signed the order to abolish the fraternization rules."

"Pet puppy!"

(Grumman and Mustang in stereo-) "Shut up, Olivier!"


	3. Infrequent Flyer

**A/N-** This is the third of the three (so far) Mustang-related shorties that I have written for LJ's fma_fic_contest and am putting together as one collection. I'll continue to add Mustang and Hawkeye shorts to this if and when I write them.

**Title:** "Infrequent Flyer"  
**Characters:** Roy, Riza  
**Prompt:** Fly  
**Summary:** Roy's nightmares haunt him horribly, but perhaps there's one dream that can heal him.

(****)

When Roy awoke, everything felt soft. A rare occurrence.

He always remembered his dreams- a curse that he knew he deserved. However, he had just had his favorite dream, his only pleasant recurring dream. Usually, his dreams- really nightmares- belched horrific scenes of Ishval. He _knew_ that he dreamed in color, because the blood and the flames were still seared in his vision when he awoke screaming screams that echoed the ones that he had caused.

This gentle dream had only visited twice before. In it, he slept, wearing only his boxers and tee shirt. He floated off of his bed, out the window, and he flew. He soared over Briggs, the air crisp, but not cold. He rolled like a gliding otter, and when he looked down, he was over Ishval. Swooping low, smiling Ishvalans waved to him, apparently finding nothing unusual in his attire. Shooting straight up, up, up, then diving down, down, down, he surfed the rolling fields near Resembool. Then, a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a smile and hair that dazzled brighter than the sun. Riza and he joined hands and glided over green woods.

Roy didn't want to fully wake and leave the dream that wrapped around him like an eider quilt until he realized that he _was _holding Riza's hand. She sighed and nestled closer.

After all the long years, they had finally declared their love. Maybe he'd be a more frequent flyer from now on.

(****)

**A/N-** I want to thank the folks who have reviewed, subscribed, or favorited. It makes me so happy to get feedback. (Hint. Hint!) Also thanks to all who have read this. I hope that you enjoyed. Take care.


	4. Be Prepared

**A/N-** This was originally written for LJ's fma_fic_contest, Prompt 83, Tear. (Word limit 250.) I seem to be compelled to portray Roy as a dork.

**I am so happy about the Chilean miners being rescued. This is very good news!**

If I were Master of the FMA Universe, something like this story would have happened in the manga!

(xxx)

Riza breathed a sigh of relief when their son was born. It wasn't only that she had worried about having a healthy child, but her husband's behavior had become somewhat bizarre, even for him.

Roy Mustang had tried to prepare himself for the big event with an alchemist's intense fixation. He'd read every book that he could find on the subject. (One day she'd looked in his notebook to see if he had jotted down anything of special interest, but when she saw that he had written the entries in code, she could only shake her head.) He'd prepared various tinctures and ointments that might be called for. (The ones from the pharmacy might not be pure enough, he had explained.) He'd obsessively practiced some of the skills that he knew he would need. (Riza had been so astonished when Black Hayate appeared in a diaper that she just stood there with her mouth open.) Roy had also been consumed by a need to rid the house of any threat to the health and welfare of the new addition, no matter that he well knew that a baby didn't crawl for a half-year or more.

So, she'd hoped that the actual infant would keep his father busy and in a healthier mindset. Of course, when she found Roy hunching over their son trying to catch a tear on a microscope slide, she knew that she'd just better get used to living in Crazytown.

**A/N- **Thank you for reading. Please review! Maybe Roy will behave more sanely! Take care.


	5. Riza's Choice

**A/N-** This short one-shot was written for the LJ fma_fic_contest prompt where we focused on a specific page of the manga or a scene from the animes. I chose Volume 15, Chapter 59, Page 72 (bottom). It takes place early in Riza's tour of duty in Ishbal. She's just saved Roy and Maes with her sharpshooting and has Roy in her cross hairs. I've always had a creepy feeling that she thought about eliminating flame alchemy then and there.(Arakawa owns all.)

^..^

Her first glimpse of him came as a shock, even though she had known that he was there. _Everyone _knew that he was there; he was nearly all anybody talked about. In truth, he was the reason that _she_ was there. She just hadn't seen him until now, looking through her scope, from her aerie, as one of the other snipers called the tower.

He had just finished … doing what he did with what she had given him. She felt sick and shivered in the heat. He was in a field of debris and destruction, talking with another officer, and he looked like but a shadow of the boy who had been her father's apprentice.

Her vision snagged on movement in the rubble! _Blaaaam._ Death. She saw Mister- _Major_ Mustang and the other man startle. The bespectacled officer pointed in her direction, and she finally saw her old friend face on. The face of the monster that she had helped create was in her cross hairs. She could snuff out flame alchemy. But it was also the face of the man she loved. And up there, with her rifle, she knew that he was not the only monster. She wondered if he, like she, wished that he had the strength to defy the orders that perverted their skills, their _selves_. Her scope revealed…_something_ in his dark eyes, and she moved her rifle a bit to her right.

^..^

**A/N-** I really wish that I knew if Arakawa intended anything remotely like what I wrote. A couple of people on LJ had had similar thoughts, but a lot hadn't. I'd love to hear YOUR opinions.

Thanks for reading, and take care.


	6. Uncharted Waters

**A/N**- This was written for the fma_fic_contest Prompt 95- Family (word limit 250)

Roy's childhood and teen years continue to fascinate me. I've mostly explored his years at the Hawkeye household (Roy and Riza: Year One), and this is only my second short pants!Roy fic. I hope that this fic doesn't seem like a copy of other Roy and Chris beginnings fics. Certain things seem like givens. Roy must have been traumatized, and his arrival at Chris' was probably quite unwelcome. But, really, ask Arakawa, 'cause she's the owner of FMA.

**^..^ **

Chris had left home at fifteen with no love lost between herself and the parents and brother she'd left behind. The employment opportunities for a fifteen-year-old had been limited, but talents as a whore and later as a spy had served her well. She'd forged a life as a free and independent woman and liked it that way.

She stared at the small boy she had reluctantly collected from Family Services and contemplated the many efforts she had put into _not_ becoming a mother. The dark almond eyes that stared (but not at her) looked vacant, reminding her of the junkies that had hung around some of the early houses she had worked at. The boy had not spoken. Chris believed that his young mind had somehow self-anesthetized. That was a small mercy. For now.

The witch at Family Services had sized her up and not-so-subtly hinted that she could (_should!_) surrender the boy to them. It wasn't a bad idea, so she couldn't quite put her finger on why she hadn't. A kid was the last thing she needed. What do you even feed a kid? Her icebox was practically bare since she ate most of her meals at the bar.

There was orange juice at the bar! She moved into the boy's line of sight and extended her hand. "C'mon Roy-Boy. Let's you and me have some O.J. and figure this out."

Was that was a flash deep in the almond eyes?

**^..^**

**A/N**- Thanks for reading. Did anyone make a New Year's resolution to review? Oh, well. Happy New Year, anyway! XD


	7. Short Conversation on a Day Long Coming

**A/N**- For Royai Day, of course.

(FMA is not, was not, and sadly, will never be mine.)

3 3 3 3

Roy Mustang collapsed onto the sofa. As tired as he was, he managed a mischievous smile. This smirk caused his favorite sharpshooter to roll her eyes in reply. "I think that this was the most difficult thing that we have ever had to go through!" Roy commented.

"_Had_ _to go through?_" Riza replied, her words accompanied by a narrowing of her eyes (much more serious than eye-rolling in the lexicon of her facial expressions). "You're comparing this to fighting homunculi or doing paperwork? Thanks a lot!"

"You know what I mean! You know long and how much I've wanted to do this. But even the Promised Day was less chaotic than today," Roy spoke quickly (and he hoped soothingly). He patted the seat next to him, and she plopped down beside him, not really angry. She didn't think that anything could disturb her contentment right now.

"After all, a lot went a little bit wrong. You were late. How do you think that made me feel? If you hadn't shown up…" Roy continued.

"I wasn't late. I was just barely on time. Heh. Wish I could have seen your expression when they told you that I wasn't there yet," she laughed.

"You think that was _funny_? I was distraught!" he nearly whimpered, which was quite the feat of acting, because her laughter made him happier than almost anything else he could think of. Then, he perked up with resolve. "And Catalina is going to _pay_."

"Oh, I don't know. I believe you knew that I'd show up, eventually. I think it was a pretty hilarious prank, _Sir_." She couldn't keep a snicker from escaping her lips. "Turning all of my clocks back an hour showed remarkable resourcefulness on Rebecca's part. She deserves a promotion." It was Mustang's turn to roll his eyes. And edge closer to Riza.

"Actually, I'm just teasing you. It's only in retrospect that I find it funny. I nearly blew a gasket when I thought that I was going to be late," she said as she loosened the collar of his jacket and brushed his neck lightly with her fingers as she did so. "Leave the payback to me," she cooed.

"You were upset, Captain? You looked perfectly serene by the time I finally got to see you." _And perfectly beautiful_, he thought.

"Well, things seemed to be back on track then. Of course, I was wrong about that." They both shook their heads in unison.

"Like I said, _chaos_! Your grandfather was practically as bad as your harpy. I thought that he _wanted_ this to happen. Note that the lunatics all belong to you."

"I'm the sanest person you know!'

"Perhaps," he said, doubtfully, not that he could come up with anyone saner, "but not your friends and relatives!"

"Well, Grandfather is … eccentric, but yours are no better! Madam's outfit… Havoc's toast… Even Falman and Fuery added to the craziness!"

"What was it about today that brought out the prankster in everyone?" he asked.

"That's a stupid question, Sir," she admonished.

"Yes it was. I hope that it does not make you think less of me," he apologized.

"Nothing could do that!' she laughed, and his lower rumble joined her contagious chuckles.

He stood and pulled her up into an embrace. "Maybe I can improve your opinion of me." He tugged her gently toward the bedroom.

"You can try."

"I promise that tonight will have less pandemonium and more harmony," he vowed.

"Well, at least you've remained sober. I heard Breda tell Havoc that he was going to get you so drunk that I might have to carry you over the threshold."

"Hmmph. At least your carrying me might be possible. Even Armstrong couldn't carry Breda over the threshold!" (Neither wanted to dwell on the image that that statement had conjured.) "By the way, you look lovely in that dress."

"Thank you."

"But you'd look even better without it."

"As would you without your garments…"

And being people of action, they did something about that.

3 3 3 3

**A/N**- In case it is not clear, this takes place immediately after their wedding ends and they get home. (Don't you wish?) Happy Royai Day. Thanks for reading, and take care.


	8. I Know Something You Don't Know!

**A/N**- Future fic! This takes place after the Promised Day. It was originally written for the fma_fic_contest on LJ and later greatly improved by the beta work of the wonderful Steph's. Would Arakawa send ninjas after me if I tried to claim that FMA belonged to me? I'd better not chance it. FMA is NOT mine!

I like to think that neither Hawkeye nor Mustang know who Grumman's granddaughter is.

xoxoxoxo

I Know Something You Don't Know!

General Mustang grimaced at the chessboard. Fuhrer Grumman had, yet again, flummoxed him with an un-anticipatable move. _I will never understand how the old man's brain works. _Grumman smiled, unnoticed by the painfully concentrating Mustang, and began to speak.

"I think that it is time that you finally married my granddaughter."

"Uh, it's been a long time since you mentioned that, Sir," Roy spluttered, still studying (or trying to study) the pieces on the board. _Is this just an attempt at distraction, or is he really back on that?_

"It has been too long! I'm losing patience! You put me off before, but times have changed. You and she are not getting any younger. Also, if you want to eventually lead this country, a wife is politically helpful," advised the Fuhrer, who was enjoying watching Roy's discomfort from both the chess move and the track the conversation was taking.

"Those are not very good reasons to marry, Sir. I'm flattered that you would want me as a grandson-in-law, but it is highly unlikely that I will ever marry. I sometimes have trouble dealing with my … complicated moods. I could never expect a wife to," Roy replied, glad to have the chess game to examine. _She must look like the old man, or she would have found herself a husband by now. Not that I would even consider marrying anyone but… I mean marrying anyone. And how the hell can I protect my queen._

"But my granddaughter is the perfect person to deal with your 'complicated moods,' as you call them," exclaimed the old man. "You are doing an excellent job in Ishval, and you should be …healing or at least beginning to, Roy." The Fuhrer seemed to have caught on to the subtext in Roy's statement. "While you can never erase the past, the Ishvalans are beginning to understand who you really are. You may have fewer enemies than you think. My intelligence is very good on this. But they take family very seriously and you would be more acceptable to them as a married man. Married to my granddaughter!"

"How could she possibly understand my… issues?" exclaimed Mustang.

"She has followed you very closely, Roy. I'd say that she knows you better than anyone else. I think that the two of you make an excellent team."

The part of Mustang's brain that had been pondering whether to move his bishop or his knight lost its focus at Grumman's odd word choices. _Do I have a stalker?_ Then:"_Make"- present tense? "Team?" _ He looked up.

Grumman continued, "I could understand that you were not ready to marry when we were back at Eastern Headquarters, but, well, that was a lifetime ago, wasn't it?"

"Respectfully, Sir, and also with all due respect for your granddaughter, I do not see this marriage coming to pass. In addition to what I have already told you, there is a woman that I care about. Love. Someone I cannot marry. And I would not marry any other." Roy desperately hoped that that would end the conversation and returned his concentration to the board.

"Yes, I know that. My granddaughter! We have to change that situation."

Roy shook his head and stared at the crazy old man. He had thought that Grumman was doing a pretty good job running the country, withstanding that he hadn't taken them much closer to becoming a democracy, but the man must be delusional. He had always been eccentric to the point of appearing wacky, but now he seemed to have become out of touch with reality.

"Fuhrer Grumman, Sir, I…" Roy cut off his sentence as an extremely peculiar giggle issued forth from the leader of Amestris. Roy was beginning to feel real panic.

"You should see your face, General! Hehehehe. When have I ever steered you wrong?" He hit a button on the phone and requested that his aide send Captain Hawkeye in.

xoxoxoxo

**A/N**- Thanks for reading. I have a couple more "chapters" (they are really one-shots) that I will upload in the near future. Take care!

"I have something to tell the two of you…" Grumman began.


	9. The Night Before

**A/N:** This was originally written for LJ's fma_fic_contest back in January. The prompt was "I don't want to kill you, but I will." Disclaimer: I can only wish that I had thought of FMA!

I would love to see Riza and Roy live happily ever after.

XOXOXOXO

Riza Hawkeye sat in the old wooden chair with her elbows on the table and the telephone held next to her ear. She was smiling, but she was clutching the phone rather tightly.

"Can you believe that this is finally going to happen? I'd wondered if it would ever come to pass." These words were coming over the wires from a phone clutched in Roy Mustang's hand.

"I'll believe it when I see it and hear it, sir."

"Come on, Riza!"

She knew what he wanted and smiled more widely. "I'll believe it when I see it and hear it, _Roy_."

"I wish that we could be together right now."

"We just have to wait for a few hours, Roy, and you know that it's against the rules. I won't break _that_ rule. And try not to whine. Don't make me change my mind about this!"

"Hah. You promised me that you'd follow me into Hell, so I doubt that you'd change your mind about _this_!"

"This may turn out to be Hell. Smugness is not one of my favorite things about you."

He sighed. "I need you for this more than for anything else."

"Me, too."

"I knew it!"

She snorted. "Go get some beauty sleep, Roy. I have a lot to do in preparation."

"You'd never wait until the last minute."

"That's true, but I really want everything to be perfect."

"It will be. No matter what goes wrong, it will be perfect."

She laughed. "So true. Whatever goes wrong, we will make it right. And it really should not be that difficult to accomplish this particular goal. So, let me go, now. I'll make it up to you tomorrow night."

There were a few seconds of silence.

"Roy?"

"I was just thinking about tomorrow night," he whispered.

She sighed. "Have a good night, Roy."

"You, too, Riza."

She hung up the phone, her hand quivering slightly. Riza couldn't believe that she was more nervous than before even the Promised Day. She walked into the kitchen, where Rebecca Catalina was drinking a cup of tea.

"Are you really going through with it?" Catalina asked. "All the other stuff you've done for him is nothing compared to this." Her words were cautionary, but her expression had failed at seriousness. Her eyes were mischievous and even full of joy. And her presence was comforting.

"I never break a promise, if I can help it," Riza joked, sipping from her own teacup.

"So what do we have to do tonight, Riz? I can't imagine that you've left anything for the last minute or to chance!"

"Really, everything is as ready as can be. I'm glad that you are here to keep me company, though. I am jumpier than I thought I would be."

"That's normal. Want to play cards?" Catalina realized that her primary duty was to keep her friend occupied.

"I think that I want to go over my vows one more time." She pulled a square of paper from her pocket and unfolded it.

"Oh, show me. Show me!" demanded Riza's best friend, save Roy. "I hope that you are promising to obey him only at work! I wonder if he'll promise to obey you," she cackled. Rebecca then proved that her reflexes rivaled those of the great Eye of the Hawk as she snatched the paper from Riza.

"Hey! All you had to do was ask, Rebecca. You'll hear them tomorrow, anyway. And I can almost always get him to do exactly what I want him to do," Hawkeye grinned. "I could, even when I was 14. And now that he is in charge of so much for work, he likes me to be the boss in our personal lives. Not that I'd have it any other way."

"Oooh, good. So no 'obey' here. I don't know… Do you really want to stand beside him through 'everything that life throws at us?'"

"I do."

"Think hard before you say those words! Hey, Riz. Where is the most important vow?"

"What vow is that?" asked a puzzled and slightly apprehensive Riza.

"The one where you promise to kill the idiot when he finally screws up so badly even you can't let it go. Even if you don't want to."

Riza could tell that Rebecca was fooling around, but _wow_. She blinked a couple of times before replying in a believably comical voice, "Oh, don't worry. He knows that one without me saying it!"

She'd made an eerily identical vow long ago, and she would always hope that she'd never be forced to keep it.

XOXOXOXO

**A/N:** Thank you for reading; hope you enjoyed. Please review, if you are in the mood. Take care.


	10. Good Advice

**A/N- **More Royai fluff with a touch of angst! There is a little bit of masochism here, but it is mostly fluff. This was originally written for LJ's fma_fic_contest prompt "Set in the Future." I am still not the creator of _Fullmetal Alchemist_ even though it was my birthday wish.

~fmafmafmafma~

Roy Mustang could hardly believe that he was actually doing this. Standing here, in full dress uniform, in a building rebuilt from one that he had destroyed years ago, he wanted to reassure himself that it was real. In books, a person pinched himself to prove that he was not having a dream. When he'd been in Ishval -that other time- he used to snap and singe a small area on his wrist, right under his cuff, hoping to wake up from a nightmare. He couldn't do either of those things here in front of this group of people, at least not without embarrassing himself. He looked over at his aunt. Madam was blinking back tears, but she saw his glance. She smiled and gave him a "thumbs up." Havoc seemed to sense something, too, and nudged him with a shoulder.

He had never expected to be doing this. One of the ways that he was able to punish himself was to deny himself certain personal pleasures. Not drink. Not sex. He allowed himself those. But_ love_. Being Riza's commanding officer was almost comfortable in its familiar agony. He had thought that he was righteous and selfless in his self-denial. Apparently not!

The Ishvalan cleric had asked for permission to remain and speak privately after one of the endless (both in number and duration) meetings. Roy liked the man quite a bit. He was religious but rational. Thoughtful and pragmatic. Perceptive. Kind. Over cups of pungent tea brewed from the hardy succulent plants that had repopulated areas of the once desolate desert, the cleric had explained to Roy that his masochistic self-indulgence was hurting Captain Hawkeye more than himself.

Roy had never thought of it _that_ way, idiot that he was. He knew how much she loved him, which was the dumbest thing that she ever did in her entire life. He figured that everyone else knew it, too. What set the cleric apart from the rest was that he saw that Roy felt the same way. It was common knowledge that he cared about her even more than his other subordinates, but not many knew that he loved her _that_ way. Her uniform, practical hair, and serious demeanor made her seem the polar opposite of the women that he had been seen with before the Promised Day. Afterwards, he no longer needed the playboy façade, and playing around with Ishvalan women would be horribly unseemly, anyway. His information network worked differently, here in the desert.

The priest had told Roy how selfish he was being. The Ishvalan understood self-inflicted pain. Religion was full of hair shirts and floggings and isolations. Roy would never understand how this virtual stranger could know what only their closest allies, their friends, should know, but he did. He said, "If you would allow yourself to be with this woman, it would lessen the burden of guilt that she has taken upon herself. She cannot begin to forgive herself until you allow yourself a normal life.

"I do not know exactly why," the priest continued, "but she feels great responsibility for your actions, and she has magnified her own actions in her mind. The ultimate cure for her would be for you to forgive yourself."

"That will never happen!"

"No. And perhaps it should not. But, if you allow yourself happiness with her, it will allow her to forgive herself and heal."

It had been a lot to consider. He had trouble believing that his own personal happiness could be a _positive_ thing. He had long lived with the weight of the lives of others on his shoulders and had borne their troubles with his own. His surprising new mentor had told him that it was time to share their joys, too, and that _they_ wanted to share his. Of course, he still had his doubts, but here was a man who seemed to be evaluating the situation objectively. Objectivity was something he, Roy, was incapable of in this case.

And, he'd do anything for Hawkeye. For Riza. Even if it made him happy.

It seemed like he'd been standing there forever. It wouldn't surprise him if she backed out. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd be shocked. Still, he took nothing for granted.

But, finally, the exotic strains of an ancient Ishvalan love song engulfed them, and there was Catalina, looking almost pretty in a dress and not eying him critically for once. And then there _she_ was, on Grumman's arm. For a few seconds, he couldn't breathe, but then a feeling of warmth washed over him. He felt a smile spread across his face. She had kept him guessing about whether she'd wear her uniform or not, and much to his great pleasure, she had not. In the simple ivory gown, she looked like herself, only more so. Like a dream Riza.

Without thinking, he moved forward, taking her away from her grandfather a bit prematurely but pleasing the rapt attendees. The Fuhrer grinned and went to his reserved seat. Riza slipped her arm though Roy's and squeezed his bicep as they approached the priest.

The Ishvalan cleric began, "Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today…"

~fmafmafmafma~

**A/N-** Thanks so much for reading. I also wished for reviews on my birthday. Maybe that part will come true. XD Take care.


	11. A Working Lunch

**A/N- **Series: Post manga and FMA: B

Warnings: A little rambling with angst and references to pain, but there also be fluff.

FMA is Arakawa's. Also, I reference an iconic scene from Disney's "Lady and the Tramp."

It was strange, he thought, how little he had known about Xing. He'd been so consumed, first with an interest in learning alchemy, and later, with dedicating all of his energies to climbing to the top, that he had never thought much about the country of his mother. When he initially went to live with his aunt, he had kept one of his mother's silk robes with him at all times. Auntie Chris had not even tried to extricate the soon tattered and soiled garment from his hands. He hadn't considered its art or craft. He'd realized that there were embroidered dragons and butterflies that appeared to float and fly on it, but he'd only thought of his momma who was gone.

But, now he was here in this strangely exotic land where in appearance (well, if he had not been in uniform) he almost blended in better than he did in Amestris. And, he knew a lot more about the country, having read up on it prior to this trip on the first commercial run of the Xingese-Amestrian Railroad.

Ling, now the Emperor of Xing (could life get much stranger than that?) had thoughtfully assigned librarians to research his family and had supplied him with an information packet about his mother and her people. It was interesting, but it didn't really hook him deep inside. It was sad that his birth parents meant so little to him, but, thank goodness, he had had people to raise him. He'd had Auntie Chris, Master Hawkeye, and even Fuhrer Grumman. He snickered at how unusual and eccentric his parental-ish influences were.

He felt a gentle and subtle bump against his arm. His captain, always close by but lately even closer, intoned, "Is it possible to let me in on the joke, Sir?"

They were sharing a desk, really a long lacquered table in an office at the palace. The remainder of the team had gone out to lunch with Alphonse who had become quite a Xingese foodie. (His list of things to do once he got his body back had been overwhelmingly heavy on foods to eat.) He and Hawkeye had stayed in for a working lunch. He didn't mind paper work so much any more, because he could see the results of the tedious chore. They'd left Ishval physically for this journey, but they would never leave it behind in their hearts and minds.

"You may not find the thought as humorous as I do, Captain." Another strangeness in his life- calling her by rank was more of an endearment than any lovey-dovey words that he knew.

"Hmm. Likely not, but feel free to share."

His hand ached, so he took the opportunity to put down his pen and smiled. "I was just thinking about how I had been raised by a somewhat motley variety of people."

She did laugh. The sound still amazed and enchanted him. She did it so rarely, though less rarely these days.

Just then, one of Ling's infinite servants knocked and entered carrying a tray of covered dishes. He looked startled when he saw the two of them. In accented but understandable Amestrian he stated, "I am sorry to have only one meal. I thought that the general was out with the other men. I will fetch another platter."

"It's not necessary, thank you. There is plenty of food for us to share," Mustang assured him. The captain next to him nodded with a smile. The portions in Xing were astonishingly generous.

She put her pen down also, and they carefully placed their papers in organized piles as far from the food as possible. They began with the spicy soup, full of bean curd and odd types of mushrooms. The aroma was intoxicating. Hawkeye handed Mustang the soupspoon, and using the teaspoon herself, they alternated dipping into the soup.

"I suppose that I share some of that motley upbringing with you. My father certainly disciplined you enough, and I'll never forget that fortnight I spent at Madam's that one spring. She was scarily protective of me."

"Not any more protective than you are of me!"

He placed the empty soup bowl back on the tray, trying not to wince as he drew the larger covered bowl towards them. The doctors had told him that he would never fully recover function of his hands, nor would they ever stop being painful, but he could live with that. He could snap. He could clap. He could do everything that he had to do. And the pain was much more bearable than other pains he had suffered and caused.

Ling's kitchen had supplied them with western cutlery as well as Xingese feeding sticks. Riza had become quite adept with the sticks, so Roy took the more easily manageable fork. The long thin noodles were mixed with tender morsels of pork and some of those unfamiliar- but delicious- vegetables. He slightly awkwardly spun his fork to spool the noodles, gave up, and since it was only her there, he began to suck the noodle into his mouth. She laughed again and drew on the noodle looped between her sticks. As they sucked, nibbled, and laughed, it became apparent that they were devouring opposite ends of the same long noodle.

Well, they both thought, what a great excuse for a kiss.

**A/N-** Oh, I am so sappy when it comes to this pair! I hope that you enjoyed, anyway. Thanks for reading, and take care.


	12. Because of Him

**A/N- **This was originally written for LJ's fma_fic_contest Prompt 159- Ripple.

Series: All, I suppose- takes place during the Ishval War

Warnings: Self-loathing/ suicidal thoughts

Disclaimer: I thought that I created Fullmetal Alchemist, but then I woke up.

*0*0*0*

Today's objective was to destroy- totally and irrevocably- the already wrecked agora and the people in it. A few remaining Ishvalans had continued to congregate in the ruins and attempt to exchange necessities… if and when they had them. Order 3066 would not let that go on any longer.

So many people had died. Too many by his own hand. It would never end.

He and his squad moved cautiously toward the target. He wanted to stand up and scream and attract his own killer. That could get his men hurt, so he didn't. _Just an excuse for not killing myself_, he thought.

He turned to gaze back at the distant sniper towers that seemed to ripple as if sunk in a disturbed pond. He knew that it was varying densities of air bending light that caused the effect, but it still made him feel dreamlike and then too awake. Riza Hawkeye was probably up there, and it was because of him. That almost made him hate himself more than the deaths he had caused did.

More Ishvalans were about to die, because of him. He wished he had the stones to snap and engulf himself in his damned flames. He had seen photographs of Xingese priests who had self-immolated during the Mong wars. But he lived and others died. _I'm a killer and a coward._

He felt so hot that he thought he might die, but he was so cold that he feared he would live.

*0*0*0*

**A/N-** I write a lot of fluffy Royai, because Roy and Riza really resonate with me, but I do see their dark sides, especially Roy's. He really has a lot to answer for. Thanks for reading. I hoped you enjoyed. Take care.


	13. A Pen for her Thoughts

**A/N- **This was originally written for LJ's fma_fic_contest Prompt 160, Writer's Block. Warnings: Spoiler if you don't know about Roy's alchemic training. Fluff. Fma is not mine. I just borrow it from Arakawa, once in awhile.

x0x0x0x

She refused to call it a _diary_. That's what the idiotic snooty girls at school called their logs. Even at twelve-years-old, Riza felt that the things she put in her _journal_ should be more substantive than _Bonnie is a total harlot._ And nicer.

She had decided to record things she learned in school. (But not when one of the girls threw a Slurpee at her.) She didn't have a social life to write about, because she had so much to do at home. In some ways, she enjoyed the solitude, but her journal was terribly boring. She'd tried to spice it up with opinions on politics to no avail. So, she stopped writing in it at all.

Her father did not give her much notice. He said that they would have two visitors _tomorrow_ and that she should prepare tea and snacks for them. (She and her father would not partake.) The guests would be a woman and her 14-year-old nephew. The boy was a potential student.

_Shoot!_ The cost of the tea would come from their food budget. It meant less for them. Her father had had a couple of prior students, and they had been nearly as bad as the popular girls at school. At least they never lasted long.

Riza answered the door. The woman wore a lot of makeup and jewelry, and dead foxes ringed her neck. The boy was extremely cute. He looked Xingese, or part, with tousled black hair and dark eyes. Riza did not _usually_ care about cute.

"I'm Master Hawkeye's daughter. Please come in."

The boy smiled and looked like he was going to speak, but a look from the woman shut him up. He rolled his eyes and then winked at Riza. Astonishingly, she found his actions charming.

Usually she busied herself elsewhere, but today she listened in from the hall. After a while, she heard, "Roy, leave the room." Before she could react, he nearly collided with her.

"Sorry, Miss Hawkeye!" he whispered. "My aunt is trying to talk your father into taking me on as a student. Would that be alright with you?"

"I suppose so," she replied, reluctantly.

"Great! I wouldn't want to disrupt your life." Then he asked her if and what she liked to read.

"I'm Riza," she said before she told him what she liked. It was quite easy to chat with him.

"Riza, you have a week to prepare the room across from yours. Mr. Mustang is going to stay with us, on a trial basis, of course." He gave the boy one of his scary faces. (He had several.) The boy merely said, "I hope that I will not disappoint anyone."

The Mustangs soon left. That night, she opened her journal for the first time in over a month.

_Today was actually an interesting day. Things may become a little more entertaining around here, very soon._

_x0x0x0x  
_

**A/N****-** I crossed over to the dark side last week, but I am back to the fluffies this week. Thanks for reading. I hope that you enjoyed. Reviews are good for my diet. Please help me! ;) Take care. _  
_


	14. Never Let Them See You Learn

**A/N**- Another one written for the Live Journal fma_fic_contest. The prompt was "Nerd." A couple of OCs are in this one, only because it's Roy in high school. I think that he might have had a conflict between wanting to be popular and wanting to learn. I see Roy as a nerd, but he's a charismatic nerd. His charisma might not have been fully developed until a little later. :)

Roy was pretty sure that he looked reasonably cool leaning against the locker. Lovely Loretta smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"Ugh! Wasn't algebra the worst? Why on Earth are we supposed to know that stuff? It's stupid nonsense. Who will ever use that rubbish?" she grumbled.

"A total waste of our time," he pronounced, hoping that his voice would not crack. Roy had actually found the day's subject matter rather interesting. He had worked his way through the algebra textbook in the first two weeks of the term. In fact, he had surreptitiously borrowed a geometry book from the library and was teaching that to himself. The sciences were his main interest, especially alchemy, and the maths were needed to study the sciences. But, Loretta looked so pretty grumbling, and a few days ago, she had pulled him into an alcove and kissed him, so, he agreed with her. Rudy, her quarterback boyfriend, was an obnoxious idiot. Roy thought that, if he played his cards right, he actually had a chance of taking Loretta to the Homecoming Dance. But not if she ever found out what a nerd he really was.

He was a little ashamed that he felt the need to hide his interests, and he wasn't sure exactly why he didn't want anyone to know that he was smart. Maybe because most of the kids didn't seem to hold knowledge in high esteem. Athletic prowess was in first place, and good looks came in second. He was not a big guy, but he did pretty well in track, so the guys treated him okay. The girls seemed to like him well enough. He was pretty sure that part of the reason that the guys were okay with him- despite the girls thinking that he was cute- was that they somehow did not see him as a threat. He kind of liked that. Their underestimating him made him feel strong and stealthy.

"So, Loretta, what do you like to do when you don't have to be here?" he inquired. Maybe they had something in common. Maybe she had hidden depths. It dawned on him that he might not be the only student with secrets.

But, sadly, she said, "On no! Sorry, Roy. I'm already late for cheer leading practice. We'll have to talk some other time." But, she did smile even more brightly, and she brushed his arm as she passed.

He glanced at his watch and realized that he, too, was going to be late for his Tuesday afternoon chess games with Norman, the president of the Chess Club. Norman hated that Roy refused to join the club, but Roy was the only player who presented a challenge, so they were sort of secret friends. Roy walked toward his destination, periodically checking behind to verify that no one would observe him heading toward Norman's.

**A/N**- Thanks for reading, and thanks to the people who have favorited various stories since the last time that I posted here. Take care, and happy holidays.


	15. What's up with the General?

**A/N-** A much shorter version of this was written for Live Journal's fma_fic_contest's prompt "Erectile Dysfunction." Most of the writers (all women, I believe) played it for the laughs. I wonder how a male writer would have treated the topic. So, the theme is sexual, and there are some silly gags about the issue, but there is nothing graphic in the fic.

Back when I expanded this, it was beta'd by the wonderful **Steph's**. I promptly lost her beta notes and soon switched computers. I took six months to admit my mess up to her, and she could not find her notes, either. So, I want to give **Steph's** credit for all of the hard work she did, but she deserves none of the blame, as I don't remember a word of what she advised.

**-xoxoxoxo-**

Having been deemed "least likely to be corrupted," Fuery became the _Keeper of Wagers_ when Falman decided to remain at Briggs. Kain hadn't really wanted the position, but he took it to avoid the unavoidable bickering that would have occurred had the job fallen to Havoc or Breda. He kept the book with the meticulousness of a man who worked with fine wires and tiny fragile parts. He'd managed to deal with most bets without too much agita, but this particular pot troubled him.

It was all about the general, naturally. Mus-tang was always a great source of speculation. Lately, he had seemed… not exactly tense… not precisely fearful… not really angry… No one could quite define his mood, but something was definitely up with him. It was perplexing, because all seemed to be going well at work. Grumman's government was still developing, but it was already much better for the populace than Bradley's had been. (Well, any government that did not plan to murder every single citizen would have been an improvement.) They were working on plans for creating a democracy. The rebuilding of Ishval had hit some minor snags but was basically going well. They'd even, shock of all shocks, all been promoted. Mustang had considerable influence with Grumman. He was Grumman's Golden Boy, clearly being groomed for even bigger things, and most Amestrians agreed that he deserved the regard. So, why was the general acting so weirdly?

When the general took a bathroom (not that he announced that was what he was doing) break…

"I'd date the onset of his mood to about a week-and-a half ago," Breda mumbled while chomping on a sloppy ham sandwich. "Right after he and Hawkeye returned from their trip to Central to meet with Fuhrer Grumman. Don't you think that it has something to do with that?"

Havoc replied, "The meeting was supposed to have been about Ishval. We know that things are going surprisingly well here. No reason to think that Grumman thinks otherwise." Havoc's mouth was also occupied with a foreign object, but the cigarette did not muddle his words.

Fuery glanced nervously at Hawkeye as she walked out of the inner office, clearing his throat to warn the others. The conversation broke, but when Hawkeye excused herself, they picked up the flow as if they had not been interrupted.

"Quick! Get the book, Kain! I have a theory," Havoc announced.

Fuery complied but felt edgy about it. The general had been immersing himself in paperwork, a sure sign of the apocalypse or something even worse. They had already survived an apocalypse of sorts. Things can always get more depraved.

He did think that Captain Hawkeye had been treating the general more gently than usual, even _before_ he had started burning (figuratively) through the usual bureaucratic nonsense. If he was working hard and Hawkeye was being nice to him, something was definitely up. And Hawkeye knew what it was. And it was seriously troubling enough that they were keeping it a secret.

Breda went first. "I wonder if something is going on with his eyes. The Stone was really getting low…" He cut off his statement, not wanting Havoc to feel badly about getting healed first. But Havoc didn't seem to notice, so excited was he about his guess at what was wrong with the general.

"It's not 'what's up' with Mustang but what is _not_ up. I bet that he has erectile dysfunction!"

Ambient sounds from the hallway floated through the stunned silence. Fuery's jaw ceased to work; his mouth hung open.

"Why in the world would you even think that?" blurted Breda. "And, moreover, how on earth are you going to prove it?"

Of course, that's exactly when the general returned, and Hawkeye was her usual couple of feet behind him. They must have run into each other coming back from their little excursions.

Fuery noticed Hawkeye noticing The Book. Lunchtime could not come soon enough.

Their exiting the office together didn't look suspicious to the captain and the brigadier general, because Fuery, Breda, and Havoc often had lunch together. (Breda's eating habits disgusted other potential companions. No one else could stand Havoc's smoke. Poor Fuery merely had guilt by association.) Neither Fuery nor Havoc remarked on Breda's rather copious tray contents, despite the ham sandwich from not much earlier. This was no time for friendly insults. The terms of the bet were a much higher priority. They found a relatively secluded table and sat.

"I do have a couple of ideas for testing your hypothesis," whispered Breda. (You'd think that he was trying to keep rumors [which might cause someone to get burnt] from starting, but it was more because Fuery had complained about the massive number of bets he had to track in the ongoing _How Many Times Will Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong Remove his Shirt Today? _pool. This particular pool had begun when the subject had been a major and before Falman had left for the North. Several of the Briggs soldiers [Yes! Including the General!] were participants.)

-xoxoxoxo-

Hawkeye followed Mustang back into his office after having done something in the outer office. He had already set out their lunches on his desk, having set aside his neatly stacked and largely completed work.

"Your stress is showing. The men realize that something is going on, Sir," Hawkeye said as she passed a napkin to Mustang. She indicated (with a graceful gesture) that he had some mustard at the corner of his mouth. "They can tell that something is bothering you and wonder what. Maybe you should say something."

"You seem as calm as ever. I just don't want to discuss it with them, yet. And, wait, _you_ want me to say something to them?"

"I've thought about it. It would surprise me if they were surprised. They are worried about you. And they just don't recognize the signs in me. Well, they may see that I am behaving a little differently, but they don't recognize it as a result of anxiety," she sighed. "They can be trusted."

"You know I trust them. I'll tell them as soon as we know. Besides, I feel that if I talk about it to anyone but you, it'll…"

"It'll what?"

"It'll jinx us."

Hawkeye had the decency to turn her face away from Mustang before rolling her eyes. Still, worrying about getting jinxed was a bit saner than what she had seen written in that stupid bet book. And she hated to admit it, but she was a little afraid of a jinx, too.

-xoxoxoxo-

"So, what's your idea, Breda?" asked Havoc.

"Well, I want to go on record that I think you are nuts." Breda paused for emphasis. "This plan would only work if the chief uses his apartment for the activity in question, which he might do elsewhere. Kain here could secretly wire up Mustang's place. Tap his phone."

Fuery shook his head so violently that his spectacles became dislodged. "No. No. No. No!"

"That really would be the best way," mused Havoc.

"No. No. No. No!"

"Or, Fuery could go to the general and say that he had a problem in bed and needs advice from a man with experience…" proposed Breda.

"Hey. Why me? No."

"You were more fun when you were more timid, Fuery," accused Breda.

"Sorry. But, NO!"

"Maybe Falman has read something on the subject and has an idea," offered Havoc.

"This is just an impossible and impossibly stupid wager. We may as well forget about it," suggested Breda.

"No," insisted Havoc. "I trust my instincts."

"Oh, yeah. Your instincts are so trustworthy, Havoc, and that is sarcasm, in case you didn't figure it out," muttered Breda.

"Everything is going well for Mustang professionally. It has got to be his sex life. Since he can always get the girls, it must be that he can't… _do_ the girls."

"Can we please change the subject?" whined Fuery.

"It might not be sex," posed Breda. "It could be his alchemy. What about his aunt's health? Maybe _he_ has a non-sex-related health issue."

"I can tell by the look in his eyes. You know, this could be a fantastic opportunity for us," Havoc wheedled.

"How?" demanded Breda.

"Well, he might try to avoid situations where he is doomed to fail. That leaves the ladies dateless."

"Wishful thinking, Havoc!" This from Fuery.

"Or, maybe he'll go out more and try harder, so to speak," snickered Breda. "Oh, what the hell am I even saying? Your theory is insane."

"Oh, no! I left The Book on my desk!" yelled Fuery.

"I guess that lunch is over," sighed Breda, gazing lovingly at his pudding.

-xoxoxoxo-

"I feel so guilty about this. It smacks of favoritism, Hawkeye."

"I know. You didn't have to ask for it."

"It's just that if I have to wait to be- I don't want to say "Fuhrer"- _leader_ of Amestris, I don't want to wait for the…_ Thing_."

"Neither do I. I want the _Thing_. You know that I want the _Thing_. And Grumman wants the _Thing_, too."

"I actually thought that he might just give his approval right then and there."

"You know him. He must have his reasons. I am still very hopeful, Sir." She looked around quickly and listened for footsteps. With all seeming clear, she reached out and ruffled his hair.

He took a chance and kissed the palm of her hand.

-xoxoxoxo-

The intrepid Jean Havoc called Falman at Briggs:

"There is no method that can gather empirical evidence to support such a hypothesis. I do not see how you can go forward with this wager," stated Vato.

Havoc thought that he heard statuesque blond laughter in the background.

Walking out the door at the end of the workday Fuery said, "Not that I want to enable you in this crazy quest, Havoc, but I am convinced that Hawkeye knows what the general is upset about."

Havoc's expression was both wide-eyed and contemplative. "You think that Mustang has experienced E.D. with Hawkeye?"

Breda and Fuery just shook their heads at what Havoc had taken from Fuery's words.

-xoxoxoxo-

The next day, having slept on it, Havoc decided that Fuery was correct. Hawkeye had and was the answer. But, how could he approach her? Had she looked in The Book? He knew that Hawkeye and Mustang were close, but could they be that close?

She was sitting at her desk, working as seriously as ever. He pulled his chair up next to hers and stretched his legs to steady himself.

"Can I help you, First Lieutenant Havoc?"

"Why be so formal, Captain? Aren't we friends?"

"Not if you are going to ask me anything about Erectile Dysfunction."

All Havoc could think was _that's the kind of look that causes E.D._

Before Havoc could escape from his own web of stupidity, Mustang emerged from his office and flicked his eyes at his aide. He moved forward and she fell into step behind him as if it were choreographed. Neither said a word to their co-workers, but Hawkeye glanced back at Havoc as she passed out the door. As soon as they were a safe distance away, Breda, moving more swiftly than one could imagine, grabbed Havoc by the collar. "This is by far the dumbest thing that you have ever done!"

"So far," added Fuery.

Not much later, the brigadier general and the captain returned to a tensely quiet office. Mustang retreated to his inner sanctum, and Hawkeye advised the men that there would be a meeting in 10 minutes. She then joined Mustang behind the closed door.

-xoxoxoxo-

"Hawkeye tells me that you have noticed that I have been under some stress recently," said Roy, almost hesitantly. "It has been a difficult time, and I am grateful to Hawkeye for being supportive throughout. The situation affects her more than anyone, and she has been amazingly patient with me."

Breda felt the poke of Havoc's elbow.

"You are my oldest friends besides Hawkeye, and you deserve to know before it becomes public."

Public? Havoc felt the poke of Breda's elbow, but somehow remained in denial.

"You all know that Hawkeye and I had a meeting with Fuhrer Grumman a couple of weeks ago. At the meeting, we asked him to help us with a problem that we had."

Havoc smirked as if this was evidence supporting his theory. As if out of all of the people he knew, Mustang would approach the Fuhrer of Amestris to discuss the Problem.

"Today, he called and advised me that he had decided that, while the solution is unconventional and contrived and maybe even a little against regulations, he wants to help Hawkeye and me out."

Where was this going? Fuery and Breda watched their buddy closely.

"He is approving Hawkeye's transfer from my command to that of Major Miles."

Fuery turned to Hawkeye, looking almost hurt and teary. Breda stopped chewing. Havoc was trying to puzzle out exactly how Mustang's inadequacy would make Hawkeye request a transfer but stay close by.

"It's really just a technicality," Mustang continued. "Hawkeye's duties will remain basically the same, at least for the time being. While Major Miles answers to me here in Ishval, he is still under General Armstrong's command. Since Captain Hawkeye will no longer be in my chain, the fraternization rules will not apply, and she and I will be free to marry. Each other, that is." Roy smiled very sweetly at Hawkeye whose return smile lit up her face.

Fuery's near tears turned to near tears of joy. Breda swallowed and then broke into a big grin. Havoc looked like he had something on his mind.

Mustang looked directly at Havoc to say, "If you have any questions, Havoc, Hawkeye will answer them. However, if I were you, I'd choose my questions wisely.

Remembering the withering look that Hawkeye had given him earlier, Havoc took the advice to heart. "No questions, Sirs."

**-xoxoxoxo-**

**A/N- **Thank you for reading. I hope that you enjoyed. I'd love to hear what you think. Also, many thanks to the people who have favorited my stories over the past few months. It made me feel great. Take care.


	16. Disappointed

**A/N-** This was originally written for Live Journal's fma_fic_contest. The prompt was "Arrogance." I'd recently spent a lot of time with someone who was dying.

I forget to type the disclaimer sometimes. As one might deduce from the name of the site, this is _fan fiction_. I do not own FMA in any way, shape, or form.

xoxoxox

Common wisdom advises that a person can't smell his own stink. He knew, now, that this was untrue. He could barely keep from gagging on the stench emanating from his body. The piss and shit and blood that he had been unable to hold inside himself were bad enough, but the rot was worse. His body was decaying while he was still using it. If you could call lying around like a pile of garbage using a body.

The flies loved the perfume of his slow death. It drew them to him like a beacon. He could hear the hum of their excitement. _Mmmm_. _Tasty human flesh for dinner. Come and get it! _ They especially seemed to like lapping from the cut over his eye and the actual surface of his bad they were just consuming him and not laying eggs in his wounds. Maggots could save limbs. Not that he expected to be found before he died. Rescue did not seem possible.

The pain continued to burn and slice through him. He thought that he would have lost consciousness by now and be unaware, but oblivion eluded him. He had known that he would, someday, become absorbed back into the earth. That was part of a very early alchemy lesson. But he hadn't expected to _feel_ it happening.

This wasn't at all what he had expected. He had thought that he would have a beautiful death. An elegant death. A hero's death. He'd been called a hero by the press. He'd never bought into that, but he had devoted himself to what he thought were good causes. He'd expected to die on the Promised Day, a warrior sacrificing himself for Amestris. He'd imagined going before a firing squad for his war crimes, a martyr for democracy. He'd never expected to die an old man. Never expected that kind of life or death, though he had occasionally fantasized about a domestic life with Hawkeye and kids. He'd know too well how unrealistic that was.

He really hoped that she would not follow him where he was going soon.

_Live fast. Die young. Leave a good-looking corpse. _

He'd expected death to be quick and clean. What an asshole he'd been.

At least, he'll have a beautiful funeral- if they ever find his body.

xoxoxox

**A/N- **Thanks for reading. The next chapter _should_ be less depressing. (hahaha) I'd love to hear from you. Take care.


	17. I Know You Are, But What Am I?

**A/N**- Back to my usual silliness with a bit of fluff for good measure. This one was written for Live Journal's fma_fic_contest. The prompt was "Characters' traits get flipped." I remembered the disclaimer today. Not mine. Sob. Arakawa's!

xoxoxox

Mustang was beyond annoyed with the little pest. Well, maybe not so little, these days. He wasn't even an alchemist anymore, but he insisted on sticking his nose in alchemist business. Secretly, Mustang was happy to toss ideas back and forth with the older Elric brother. He was the most brilliant alchemist that Roy had ever known with the possible exception of Master Hawkeye, but somehow he managed to make even scientific discourse grating. Of course, if asked, Ed would have said nearly the same about his former commander.

"I don't know why you bother to use a transmutation circle when you don't need one, Colonel Bastard."

"That's 'General,' and yes you do, Former Fullmetal, because not only have I told you, but you have even discussed circle construction with me. You are interested, too. Array-less alchemy is quite convenient, but I don't want to lose my old skills, and I want to continue to improve them."

"Idiot," remarked Ed, even though _he_ had never stopped studying arrays.

The transmutation should have gone smoothly. It was a fairly simple experiment to see if a light material's strength could be enhanced by swapping its crystalline structure with that of a heavier and stronger compound. But Ed was enjoying harassing Mustang by leaning over his shoulder. (Roy was crouching, or that would not have been possible!) And then Ed sneezed himself off balance and fell against Roy. They tumbled in, and the blue light flashed.

"Are you okay, you clumsy little twerp?" Roy wanted Ed to be okay so that he could inflict a world of hurt on the younger man himself.

"You had to transmute as we fell, didn't you?" accused Ed.

"My hands reflexively went down to keep me from face-planting when you pushed me. Shit. There is no part of my body that I'd want switched with yours, shrimp."

"I barely touched you. And I am not short, anymore!"

"Not _as_ short."

Eventually, the men checked themselves over. Nothing appeared to be amiss, so they returned to studying the results of the transmutation on the materials and later, disappointed, made their separate ways home.

xoxoxox

Winry was waiting for Ed in the apartment that Mustang kept reserved for them on-site at Eastern Headquarters. She had begun to cook dinner.

"Do you think that this will go well with that?" he asked, holding forth a dark ruby bottle.

"Wine, Ed? What a nice surprise." Ed was usually more of a beer guy. Winry smiled and kissed him on the cheek.

"Ah, if that is how you demonstrate your appreciation for that minor item, I hope that I earn a kiss over here for these!" He pointed to his lips with one hand as he extended the other with a floral bouquet.

"Oh, Ed!" Winry exclaimed as she threw her arms around him and granted his wish. She loved Ed and knew he loved her, but classical romantic gestures were few and far between with him. His devotion usually had to be inferred. Ed replied with a nibble on her ear lobe.

"Mmmm. I don't know what's gotten into you, but I like it. How was your day?"

"You-know-who was a real pain in the behind, but let's forget about that for now…"

"Forget about what?" Winry giggled as Ed kissed her hand. This new, suave Ed was so… not Ed, but she wasn't going to open a can of worms by pointing this out to the man who was gently pushing her toward the bedroom.

xoxoxox

Riza still marveled at the turn their lives had taken. Who would have thought that they could have found happiness outside of work, let alone together. They usually left the office as a couple, but Roy had wanted to stay late to work on a project that might aid the tribes of nomadic Ishvalans who herded sheep and goats. His transmutation would, he hoped, keep their yurts light enough to carry, but strong enough to withstand the desert sandstorms that had become worse since the war had ruined fields and caused the desert to encroach into previously less harsh areas. He'd wanted Edward to take a look at the array. She giggled a little at what might have transpired between those two. Their respect (and possibly even affection) did seep through, but they were still jarringly volatile with each other. So much alike! She and Winry had traded stories and tips over dealing with their high-strung men.

She and Roy had seemed to have found a way to leave most of the tensions of work behind, and they were even dealing with the disappointment of not (yet, she still hoped) having children. They were grateful (to whatever or whomever) for their much greater-than-expected happiness. Roy liked to putter in the kitchen with her, so she had gathered ingredients but was waiting for him to actually start to cook their dinner.

The door slamming aroused her from a doze. Huh. Weird. Roy stomped into the room.

"How did the experiment go?"

"I could swear that something transferred, but it wasn't the strength against axial or torsional forces on the materials." He punched a sofa cushion as he plopped down. "That dumbass Edward ruined the transmutation."

She sat beside him and rubbed his back. "You'll figure it out. Are you hungry?"

He kissed her. "I'm sorry. Forget about it. I could down a herd of horses! Let's eat."

"I thought that we'd make pasta with smoked salmon and vodka cream sauce."

"Cream sauce? That's like milk." Roy blanched as white as the said dairy products. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"What? You love this recipe? Your temper is a little short, tonight."

"Short? Are you saying that I'm so short that Black Hayate could mistake me for a fire hydrant?"

"Um, Roy, I think that I know what got transmuted…"

xoxoxox

**A/N-** I hope that you liked it. I think that it liked you. I'm on my knee's begging for reviews. Please? Take care.


	18. Whodunit?

**A/N- **Another originally written for the LJ fma_fic_contest. The prompt was "shoelaces." I don't even own FMA in any of the infinite alternate universes.

**Warning**: The act referred to was done under controlled (animated) conditions. Do not try it at home! Also, beware of one cuss word and a largish plot hole.

-xoxoxo-

He should have locked the door to his inner sanctum.

So what if he'd nodded off a little at his desk? He'd been up all night doing painstaking alchemical research.

Who had done it? Someone was going to regret his- or _her_- little caper. It could be the lieutenant. She did have a usually dormant playful streak. Damn, if it was _her_, there would be no recrimination. She would just say that he had deserved it, and she would make him believe that.

The thought of her having done it was sort of exciting… Ahem.

Breda didn't have the flexibility to have crawled under the desk.

Havoc was a possibility. He was not skillful with the fairer sex, but he was an accomplished prankster. (Roy did not consider it a prank, but the others would.) Havoc was lithe enough to have performed the dark deed.

Falman- highly unlikely.

Fuery would never have done it, which was not to say that he would not have recorded it. Oh, yes, there probably was a recording, a permanent record of his humiliation. Where was the hidden camera? He looked around from his embarrassing vantage point.

Wait! What was that sound? Young Ms. Rockbell was a brilliant mechanic, but even she could not eliminate the distinctive sound of an automail leg. _The shrimp was here! _Now there was no doubt in his mind who had engineered his descent into this ungainly position on the floor of his office by tying his shoelaces together while he napped.

-xoxoxo-

**A/N-** Roy initially believes that it could be Riza because of the omakes where she drew a mustache and cat's whiskers on his face. And, I am sure that she played tricks on him when he was her father's apprentice. Thanks for reading! Take care.


	19. Heaven and Hell Can Wait

**A/N-** This is for **Steph's**, who is my beta but did not receive this to beta. I just wrote this in a rush and wanted to get it out today. It's a sequel to another fic in this _Mustang Miscellany _series called "Disappointed." "Disappointed" was a very dark and depressing Roy death fic. The idea behind it was that Roy died, ignominiously drunk from a petty crime, instead of as a hero. Steph's convinced me that "Disappointed" should be a close to death fic and not a death fic. So, happy RoyAi Day, Steph's!

XxxxxX

"Here! I've found him. He's alive, but…" It was Havoc's distraught voice she heard. Her hearing was nearly as sharp as her sight, so she began to run toward the sound. Her legs and arms felt heavy and slow, as if she were under water. But she got there right after Fuery, who was already calling an ambulance on his portable equipment.

"He's not conscious. Heartbeat is very weak," Havoc related to Fuery, cradling Mustang's head in his lap. There was gasping behind her as Breda joined them. "There's a bad head wound, but the bleeding has pretty much stopped." He brushed away more flies. How could a man look both dry and bloated?

Hawkeye moved closer and sank to her knees. The smell of urine and feces nearly choked her. She glanced at Havoc, who had tears in his eyes.

Fuery was yelling into the phone. "Hurry. Hurry. This is a dire emergency." Then he nodded, as the thin wail of a siren threaded toward them. "That's for us," he seemed to say directly to Hawkeye. "Yes. Thanks," back into the phone.

XxxxxX

They hadn't worried about him until late morning the first day. Mustang had never let specific tour of duty hours cramp his style, but he was always in by 10:00. He hadn't answered his phone. They did their work- sort of. The men didn't comment on Hawkeye's frequent trips to the telephone.

At quitting time, Havoc went over to Hawkeye. "C'mon. I'll go over with you and we'll check it out." She nodded curtly. He wondered if they'd have to break in or if she had a key. If they had to break in, he sure hoped there weren't any alchemic wards.

Of course, she did have the key. "In case he loses it," she explained. Havoc sadly thought that it might be true. Most of the men soldiers thought that those two were lovers. Most of the women in the army thought that Mustang would never go for such a hard ass. The soldiers that knew them best just wanted them to be happy.

It was clear that he had not been home. Havoc ventured, "Maybe we should call Madame…"

"She hasn't heard from him. She'll call if she does." Hawkeye sighed. "Take me home and be in on time tomorrow."

When Mustang didn't show up or answer his phone the next day, they began searching. They knew where to start. With any freaking bar or dive in the city. Not that that helped much. He seemed to have been to at least four of them two nights ago.

But then, there he was.

XxxxxX

The medic frowned. "His vital signs are very poor." And then, Mustang's heart must have stopped, because one medic was breathing into his mouth while the other pounded on his chest. As soon as he was breathing on his own again, they got him into the ambulance. The oxygen seemed to be helping. The nails on the fingers that Riza was holding in her hand seemed less blue.

XxxxxX

They were in the waiting room for hours that seemed like days. Breda thought it meant that they were helping him. That they hadn't given up. Other than that, no one talked.

Fuery, Breda, Havoc, and Hawkeye rose as one when the doctor appeared.

"He has been stabilized. He had suffered a very bad beating, probably by a couple of thugs. His wallet is gone, and there is evidence that he may have consumed a large quantity of alcohol. He has a severe concussion, internal injuries, and a broken leg. While unconscious, he was bitten by flies and rats causing infections, and he was dehydrated. I suppose you understand that he was dead for several seconds, but his brain was not deprived of oxygen long enough to cause permanent damage. He's drifting in and out of consciousness. Any questions?"

Breda was the one who asked, "Will he be all right?"

"It's touch and go right now, but he is getting the best care possible. If he wants to live, he probably will. He'd like to see Lieutenant Hawkeye. Is that one of you?"

"I am Hawkeye, Doctor."

As they walked, the doctor restated that Mustang was not completely conscious all of the time. He might not be able to talk much. A nurse would be with him until a time when he did not need constant oversight.

XxxxxX

His hair had been shaved in places so that his wounds could be cleaned. It had been too late for stitches. He was still getting oxygen, but only by cannula. Strangely, what upset her most was that the bruise under his left eye was so dark that his lashes blended instead of contrasting against his pale skin. He had been cleaned up and put into a fresh hospital gown. His leg was in traction.

She wanted to take his hand but not to disturb his peace. His lashes did not even flutter.

"Lieutenant?" Barely whispered. Probably just in his sleep.

"Are you there, Lieutenant?"

"Colonel. Sir! I'm here"

His eyes fluttered open. "You're not an angel?"

She scoffed. "You think that you'd see angels?"

The sound that came out of him was too weak to be called a laugh.

"I did think that I was dead, though."

Now it was difficult for her to get the words out through the tears. He voice was ragged. "You were. You were dead. For a minute."

He tried to sit up and couldn't. He could move his hand, so he reached out to her. "I'm sorry."

"You weren't on a mission. We have so much to do and so many enemies, and you go out and get drunk and get mugged by crooks. You could still die."

"No, I can't, Lieutenant. Maybe if you weren't so mad at me I could."

She hadn't realized that she had been yelling. And shaking her fist at the Colonel. The nurse, who had been checking something across the room had hurried back to the bed to control Hawkeye, but Mustang gave her a weak wave.

"I plan to live, Lieutenant. I think that I even want to." His black eyes suddenly had that look. The look.

"That look isn't going to make me any less angry!" she said as evenly as she could. "He likes to make me angry," she muttered to the nurse.

His eyes had closed again, and he looked like he had fallen into a comfortable sleep. But then-

"I love to make you laugh, too." He reached out and took her hand.

The nurse shook her head and went back to her project.

XxxxxX

**A/N- **Thanks for reading. I'd love some reviews. Maybe there will be some Riza helping Roy get back to health (and punishing him at the same time) in the future. Take care.


	20. The Ladies in the Towers

**A/N:** I disclaim! Nothing about FMA is mine. This was written for the LJ fma_fic_contest Prompt 217- Castle.

Warnings: Takes place in Ishval. That should be warning enough.

-+-+-+-

_Pyut Pyut. _

Bullseye, she thought sadly. Nearly always a bullseye. Sergeant Pratt had called her the _Angel of Death. _She agreed with the label, except for the angel part. At least she was not the kind of angel she had read about in fairy tales.

A memory flew in on the hot gust.

Mama had usually plaited her hair into two braids. It had been so pale, almost white when she was little. Mama had kept a lock of it from every year- one for each of the seven years that Mama had been… her mother, pressed in a scrapbook. Each year, her hair darkened a shade or two. By the time that Mama had died, her hair had been more gold. She didn't care. Hair was just hair. But she had wanted to grow her hair long, long, long like Rapunzel's when Mama had told her that story.

She had been so thrilled when the handsome prince came to rescue poor Rapunzel and take her to his castle to live happily ever after. She had made Mama braid her hair into a single queue and wondered how long it would take for it to be a rope strong enough and long enough to climb.

Mama had laughed and said, "You know, a girl can rescue herself and even others. That's what lady doctors do. And my father told me that the army was taking female soldiers. What do you think Rapunzel could have done to save herself?"

She had been shocked by the idea. The princesses always needed the princes to save them. Or did they? Mama had said to think about it, and they'd discuss it tomorrow. She had thought so hard about it, and she _had _come up with a couple of ideas.

"Mama! Rapunzel could have served the witch some sleepy tea and tied her up while she slept!" she had proudly stated. "Or, she could have cut off her braid and tied it to the bedpost and climbed down it herself when the witch was out." (That had actually been the witch's idea, but why couldn't it work for Rapunzel, too?) "Why didn't she, Mama?"

"I just don't think that she was very smart, Sweetie. You are, and you will know how to take care of yourself."

What a joke! Here she was, a prisoner in a tower, just like Rapunzel. She could climb down when her daily or nightly duty was over, but she was still a prisoner.

Her father had cut her hair short right after Mama had died. He had said that he couldn't handle it. Hair was just hair. She had thought that it was right that she lose a part of herself when Mama died.

All of those years without Mama, she had felt like she was in a locked tower. She didn't try to escape, because Father needed her.

Then, Roy showed up. He was scrawnier than the storybook princes, but his looks were exotic. Even she was not immune to that. And he did rescue her, just by being Roy. He helped her with the housework when he could. He talked to her about the news and books. He made her feel good. Even pretty. _Happy._ He could fill the bill, she had thought, forgetting all that her mother had taught her. It was a good time for both of them. The old house had begun to feel like their castle.

But now, it looked like the prince needed rescuing himself, if he was even worth rescuing.

After her father had died, she decided to follow her soldier boy. Despite what she thought she knew about the horrors of war, she had been excited about being sent to Ishval, because she knew that he was there. Here. Before she saw him in person, she saw what he had done. With her gift. With her back. With her father's life. She had never thought that she could want to kill anyone until she saw the horrors he had scorched. She'd felt revulsion and hate, and when she had seen him in her sight…

She'd killed the Ishvallan with the knife, instead. She decided that she would talk to Roy, and she found him by a fire. Of course. One look at his eyes had made her wonder if the Roy she had known was even in there at all. He seemed more lost than she. More a prisoner. She wasn't sure whether she cared or not. She didn't know what she would do if she had him in her sight again.

Then, Captain Hughes had sought her out. Sharp green eyes when you could see past the lenses. "You know him. He hasn't changed beyond being able to change back. Yet. He's going to do great things. He just has to figure out how to save himself first. He hates himself more than anyone else does.

_Let's ask the Ishvallans about that_, she thought.

"He told me about how you were the only other person he has told how much he wants to help people," Hughes continued. "He needs us, Eye of the Hawk. Please don't despise him or dismiss him. That might push him over the edge. He respects you so much." He seemed to want to say more but didn't.

"What happened to him, Captain?"

"War happened. A corrupt war. The worst kind of war. You see our eyes. We do what we have to do to survive. To make it through. To go home to our princesses and our castles."

Damn that Hughes. It was simpler to just hate Mustang.

_Pyut._

So she would have to rescue them both. And Hughes, too. And then, maybe they'd get strong enough to help others who needed it.

What would her castle be like, if she made it out of here? She didn't think it was going to be a little cottage with a flower garden.

_Pyut. _Bullseye_…_

**A/N-** What do _you_ think Riza thought when she got to Ishval and saw Roy murderous use of Flame Alchemy? How could she come to support him again? Reviews are very welcome. Thank you for reading, and take care.


	21. Best Man's Blues

**A/N- ** This was originally written for LJ's fma_fic_contest for the prompt "Wedding." As you know, FMA is definitely not mine.

Roy Mustang checked his hair yet again. Despite the liberal use of pomade, the one lock in the middle of his forehead insisted on falling in his face. Well, it would just have to do. Maes was lucky that Roy had wrestled his hair into as neat a style as he had. He wouldn't have done it for just anyone. His messy hair was a sort of badge of honor to him. A small symbol of the huge rebellion that lived in his heart. But, for this one day, for his best friend's wedding, he would _act_ the perfect soldier to _be_ the perfect Best Man. He centered his cap on his head.

Back in Ishval, he had worried that this day would never come. Whenever Maes had babbled on about his wonderful Gracia waiting for him at home, Roy had been sure that a bullet or a bomb would come out of nowhere and blow that crazy head open. He had especially hated it when Maes had gone on about his future right before a mission. How many times had told Maes that it would provoke the Fates? How many times had he begged Maes not to talk of happiness? He'd spat three times and knocked on wood after each Maesian rant, knowing that it would not be enough to save the man. He had felt ill every time until his friend returned safely. Maes had called him a superstitious goof. He had insisted to Maes that they were prudent precautions. There were just certain things that science couldn't explain.

But, somehow, they'd both made it through. Roy knew exactly what having survived the war meant to him. He didn't deserve happiness. One did not have to understand equivalent exchange to understand that. He didn't deserve atonement or forgiveness, either. The scales would never be balanced, but he would do what he could to remove the corruption in Amestris' government. Maes couldn't quite get what that meant to Roy's personal life- that there could be none. He wished that Hughes would stop urging him to find his own (nearly as perfect as Gracia) wife. Hawkeye had been invited to the wedding, Roy was sure more as a date for him than for any other reason. But Maes was all in so far as the rest of it went. They _had _to make a better world. It wouldn't help the ones that they had murdered, but it would help the survivors and the innocent young.

Roy checked his dress uniform, tugging at the hem of the jacket and glanced at his new Lieutenant Colonel's stars. It disgusted him that he had been rewarded for killing, but his plan required that he rise higher in the military. He didn't care who thought that he was an aggressively ambitious womanizer. He wanted to be underestimated. He was pretty sure that Bradley wasn't fooled, but that just meant that he must not underestimate the Fuhrer.

He checked his pocket for the ring and walked to the car. When he got to Maes' place early, the eager groom was already waiting outside, grinning like his face would split.

As he and his best friend walked into the sanctuary, Roy couldn't remember the last time that he had smiled. What reason should he have to smile? But he did smile for Maes and slapped him on his back. And he was tremendously happy for Maes. It was almost too good to be true, but his beloved friend was going to get that _happily ever after_ that he dearly wanted.

**A/N-** Thank you for reading. Take care!


	22. A Tender Transmutation

A/N: This was written for LJ's fma_fic_contest. When I saw the prompt- lead- I immediately thought of lead the element and bullets. Hours later, I realized that it could mean the verb, too. Bad brain! Also, Roy angrily snapped at the word count (250) to no avail. Plus, he threatened to snap at me if I claimed that FMA was mine.

*fmafmafma

Their last assignment had been messy and depressing with a minor injury to a civilian. Roy could tell that Riza believed that she might have prevented it by firing at the perpetrator sooner, despite the fact that she'd had no clear shot at the time. She'd cleaned her guns with her usual precision, but he'd seen the ambivalence in her eyes as she loaded the lead projectiles.

He wanted to cheer her up, and he couldn't shake the urge to use bullets. Crazy, he knew. Transmuting lead into gold was forbidden, and the heavy metal itself was toxic if used improperly. What could he do that was both safe and beautiful?

"Colonel! Your stack of paperwork is not getting any lower," reproved the object of his musings.

"Sorry, Lieutenant," he replied with a grin. An idea had come just in time.

Years of drawing arrays had sharpened his drafting skills, and he'd seen the old photo enough to know it well. He worked hard, simplifying the image, but keeping it true and recognizable. When he was satisfied with his design, he drew his array on the floor with chalk. He arranged the old bullets and the purchases he had made on his way home.

At the end of the next day, he called her into the inner office and gave her the stained glass panel that he had based on her favorite old photograph of her five-year-old self and her mother.

She threw herself into his arms.

*fmafmafma

**A/N- **Oh, I really needed to write some Royai fluff. I hope you liked it. My calico cat refuses to review my stories. Maybe a human will. Take care!


	23. Smile

**A/N-** This was originally written for LJ's fma_fic_contest. The prompt was "Smile."  
**Warnings:** Spoilers if you haven't seen FMA:B episode 64. References to earlier violence found in FMA:B and the manga.  
**Disclaimer:** Ownership of FMA is on my wish list.

He wakes up gasping. Disoriented. Silently cursing. He never would have believed that he could have nightmares worse than the Ishval ones, but this… the slash. Him unable to break away from Goldtooth's goons. The split second where her eyes widen before they close. The beads of blood, like a garnet necklace, growing into tendrils that much too quickly pool on the ground. In the dream, she screams, though she hadn't during the battle.

He pushes up into a sitting position and looks around before he remembers. His heart still jumping in his chest and pounding in his ears, he realizes that his eyes cannot see, but they can make tears. He doesn't bother to wipe them away.

The bed feels strange, and he remembers that he is in the hospital. At least, when he went to sleep, she was there, too. He wants to jump out of bed and find her, but groping in the dark would disturb her if she sleeps. He closes his eyes out of habit and concentrates on his breathing. His heart slows and his breath sounds lessen. It's not his breathing he wants to hear. Can he learn to listen with his ears the way that one can look at something specific with one's eyes?

Too slowly, his breath sounds recede. He focuses as if he were learning a new transmutation. He hears her. She sounds raspy, but her breaths are calm and even. The corners of his mouth turn up, just a little.

**A/N-** At least it had a happy ending, right? Originally, Riza's neck wound was going to be the smile. I've read that assassins refer to slit necks as smiles. Thanks for reading. Reviews are much loved. Take care!


	24. The Nose Knows

**A/N-** A friend of mine told me that she had read an article stating that pet cats think that we humans are just large weird cats. I have no idea whether this applies to dogs or not, but for my purposes, it does! This was originally written for the LJ fma_fic_contest. FMA is way too cool to be mine.

0000

He enjoyed it when Ma took him to visit the rest of the pack, even if it reminded him that Ma was Beta and not Alpha. Black Top was Alpha, and maybe Ma's mate. He hadn't seen them mate, but Ma's smell changed around Black Top, and Black Top also showed signs of desiring to breed. He wondered if the other dogs noticed it. He loved seeing Big Brother. He remembered Big Brother getting him out of the rain, and Big Brother always played with him. Dread Red made him feel like he could be Alpha of his own pack someday, because it was so easy to boss him around. If Ma and Black Top had a litter, they could be his pack. Smoke was okay, but he always made him feel like there was fire close by. Black Top smelled a little of smoke, too, but it was not a sign to flee. Tall Gray mostly ignored him except to occasionally bark quietly on and on.

He was excited to hear the noise from the hallway. Loud Pup and Metal Giant were visiting, too! Metal Giant looked scary, but he was actually nice and playful. Loud Pup made Black Top get loud, too. It got really noisy when Loud Pup was there. He got up and glanced at Ma to see if it was okay before he ran over to greet Metal Giant. Wait. Huh?

"Meow."

_WOOF! What the heck were that sound and smell coming from inside Metal Giant?_

0000

**A/N-** Thanks for reading. I hope that you enjoyed. Take care.


	25. Girls Talk

**A/N-** This was written for Live Journal's fma_fic_contest's prompt "juicy." Sadly, due to the word limit, we only get to read about Riza's first sexy times with Roy. Oh, yeah. Roy/ Riza sexy times are in my head canon. Al/ May and Ed/ Winry sexy times are alluded to.(This takes place several years after The Promised Day.)

Warnings: Sexual situations, but not very graphic.

I own nothing from this fanfic except for the wine.

* * *

May's high pitched giggle syncopated with Winry's cackle. Riza's laughter was mostly silent, but her nearly spilling her wine indicated that she had thought that Winry's tale had been as hilarious as May had.

"Well, you all know what a dork Ed is, so what did you expect?" Winry demanded.

"It's a good thing that you knew about anatomy from working with automail," snickered May, generating another torrent of laughter.

The sweet aroma of apple pies baking had made the women giddy. Or perhaps it was the wine. Apparently, massive consumption of the fruits of the vine did not interfere with pie baking as much as one might think. Or maybe it was that all three of the women had had experience in performing under pressure.

"Okey dokey," declared Winry, obviously at least a little inebriated. "May and Al took a wild ride on the Dragon Pulse. Ed proved that even dorks can rapidly become skilled in the romance department. What about Roy?"

There was a dissonant duet of _Roy, Roy, Roy, Roy_ followed by more laughter.

"Riza?"

"C'mon, Riza! It couldn't be that bad. Both you and the general must have known what you were doing by the time you got together!"

"Was it when you joined his team?" May queried.

"Did you have to do it to protect him?" Winry snorted, remembering what Riza had said at their first meeting.

"Don't tell us you waited until after the Promised Day!"

"Hmmm," said Riza.

"You have to tell us! We shared!"

"I guess I have no choice. Roy and I met when I was 14 and he was 16."

There was a double gasp.

"Yikes! You knew teenage Roy."

"My father was an alchemist, and we always needed money, so he sometimes took on students. He was a very accomplished alchemist, so we always had people wanting to study with him, but they usually didn't work out.

"Father had advised me of a new student, so I unhappily readied the house. The money helped, but it was extra work for me. I was shocked to see a kid not much older than me. I knew that he must be precocious, because father thoroughly tested students before he took them on, but even then, they usually did not keep up with his standards. Roy was not so much of a slacker then, and he did well with Father.

"My father had never said anything to me, but apparently he was aware of the potential issues that might ensue when two teens were in close quarters. He warned Roy that any funny business with me would land Roy on the business end of flame alchemy.

"Roy had already mastered the art of being annoying, but he was also very sweet. At first I thought that he was just a bother, but he grew on me. He helped me around the house when he could. He actually baked me birthday cakes each year. He studied with me at the kitchen table. We became close friends.

"And, he was really, really cute."

May hooted at that, but Winry said, "He's obviously not my type, but if I didn't know Ed, I could have gone over to the dark side once or twice."

Riza mock frowned. She curled up her bottom three fingers, raised her thumb, and pointed her extended index finger at Winry. "Bang."

"Gun versus wrench," giggled May. "Which would win?"

"My father had put the scare into Roy, but we were curious kids. When I was about sixteen, Father figured that we could be left alone while he went on a business trip. The first night, I was waiting for Roy when he emerged from the bathroom in his pajamas. I grabbed him and kissed him hard on the mouth."

"Riza! Riza!"

"Once he recovered from the surprise, he responded enthusiastically."

"I'll bet!"

"And, I hadn't known about the tongue, but I caught on."

"Woooo!"

"Father returned, and we went back to normal, except that we managed to covertly brush by each other now and then. And, the next time father went away, Roy asked if he could touch my breast while we kissed."

Winry fell back in a fake swoon.

"So, every time that father left, we tried something new. Also, every time that Father went away, Roy would give me something that he had bought or transmuted. I hid his gifts. He started doing it again after Ishval. He still gives me something that he transmutes the first of every month."

"Awww," sighed May.

"So, when Roy was nineteen, he and Father argued horribly about Roy going into the army. They had tried to recruit Father over and over. I don't know if he knew any of the truth or just hated it instinctively. But Roy was leaving, and Father took a trip, because he was too angry at Roy to see him off. Roy was really hurt by Father's abandonment, but I was pretty certain that I could divert him.

"I didn't know if he'd have protection, and I was too embarrassed to be seen buying condoms so I sneakily pocketed some at the general store and left money hidden under a box on the counter."

"Riza was a strumpet and a klepto!" screamed Winry.

May spit out her sip of wine.

"I was not a klepto! I left money!

"But I was very nervous about my father finding out. I reasoned that Father might notice if I had washed sheets early or that he'd just find out some other way. So, I pulled Roy up the steps, and he thought that we were going to one of our beds, but I pulled him into the bathroom and tried to get him into the tub. Without water! I have since perfected the art of bath tub sex," she said with a very un-Riza-like grin.

"For once, Roy was the voice of reason. He refused the tub but agreed to the bathroom floor and went to his room and brought in a couple of pillows. Said that we could wash out a couple of pillow cases if we needed to without father finding out. He wanted me to be comfortable.

"He was patient. Gentle. We were pretty awkward, but managed well enough, considering. Then, just as things were progressing, I sneezed, startling Roy. His head shot up. We had apparently moved too close to the bath tub, and he smacked his head against the bottom of the rim of the tub. Then he jumped away, and hit his head again against the sink. I managed to get him to the doctor where he received a total of nine stitches in the two gashes. The doctor wanted to shave Roy's head, but Roy made a big fuss and the doctor had to settle for just shaving the two patches. I think that Roy would have cried had the doctor insisted. Can you imagine Roy without hair?"

The princess, the mechanic, and the officer could barely stop laughing and garner self- control when the timer went off, but the one thing better than a juicy story is a juicy pie.

* * *

**A/N-** The last line of the fic does not represent the author's point of view! Thank you for reading, and take care.


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